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some stream-of-conciousness poetry...
a little burroughs-inspired surrealist poetry...
this was my first attempt at this kind of thing, so its a little raw but i like the way it turned out
Pacifire
That left big toe nail is getting hotter and hotter and hotter and its red and its white and its blue and its curling away like a centipede doing it?s back stretches. For (y)our Job, for your family its all gonna be ok at the finish line (walls of hands holding cups of caesar green: gold all for you, not the bad ones). What happens is now, what happens is the crushing feels good, a sweet squeeze, the vice on your head a pillow, a cushion, a hug, but you?re stuck in it, cramped between comfort and a soft place that?s so warm it stirs your stomach sick. Damp thick bedsheets got your legs in a knot, and you smell smoke (burning hair or not) and a screaming, screaming, screaming child in the other room but the light?s flickering and it?s just that easy to turn off. I know you can do it, I?ve seen it a hundred times but that doesn?t matter anymore because what we got on your hands now is greasy sticky salty blood and the problem is it tastes like candy. Those green papered People out there: chanting, waving their arms, bumping into each other ain?t gonna wait for you to piss into The Fire, you gotta hose them off and give them their sweet medesins or they?re gonna babycry too.
this is the first of several, if i get decent feedback ill post some more
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